


O'Brien has a bad day

by turtles_to_the_max



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Bad Karma, orwell i'm so sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:04:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turtles_to_the_max/pseuds/turtles_to_the_max
Summary: O'Brien has a really bad day.As in, 'getting fired and sent to miniluv'-level bad day.Oddly enough, Winston is not all that sad about it.





	O'Brien has a bad day

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first 1984 fic and it's kinda trash don't judge me too much please

“You wanted to speak with me, sir?” O’Brien glanced briefly up at the telescreen behind the desk in front of him before turning his attention to the man sitting behind it.

The man behind the desk nodded curtly. “Yes. It’s about who you’ve been hiring lately. Bob Withers…”

O’Brien sighed; he had always known this was going to happen someday. “Sir, the Withers case was unforeseeable. He was a bright employee, a very hard worker — I suspect some outside influence. He was quickly cured, and I assure you it will not happen again."

The man smiled grimly. “Understandable — or at least it would be, if it had, as you said, been the last time.”

“Sir?”

The man turned his back on O’Brien and pressed a button on the telescreen, which lit up with an image of Winston reading Goldstein’s book. “Just two months after Bob Withers, there was Comrade Winston Smith. He proved to be completely incapable of doublethink, and committed high treason against Big Brother. He is also proving incapable of being cured — he is still captive at the Ministry of Love, is he not?” There was a hint of danger in the man’s voice.

“Well, yes, sir, but—”

And then,” O’Brien’s supervisor interrupted, “there was Comrade Julia.” He pressed the same button and the image disappeared, replaced with footage of Winston and Julia in the old junk shop, holding hands and deep in conversation. “She was found guilty of aiding and abetting Comrade Smith, plotting revolution, and having a continued romantic relationship with Smith behind the Party’s back.” On the telescreen, Winston said something and Julia smiled and leaned up to kiss him.

“Yes, that is true, but—”

“And THEN,” the man continued angrily, “there was Comrade Parsons. We all thought he was the perfect Party member — loyal, hardworking, and devoted to Big Brother. But then…” He jabbed the button angrily and the footage cut to Parsons’ bedroom. Parsons stirred in his sleep, muttering “Down with Big Brother. Down with Big Brother.” over and over again. “Who we thought was the most devoted Party member in all of London turned out to be nothing but a CRIMETHINK! What do you have to say for yourself, O’Brien?”

“Sir, I couldn’t —” O’Brien stuttered.

“AND THEN,” his supervisor roared, “there was Comrade Syme — who left a fatal mistake in a poem adaptation that could have alerted the public to an almighty being other than Big Brother, who could have endangered us all! O’Brien, are you capable of hiring anyone - ANYONE! One. Singular. Person — who is NOT a thoughtcriminal?” The man’s face was purple with rage; he took a few deep breaths, evidently attempting to calm himself.

“So,” he said after a minute, his voice a little calmer but still tense, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said O’Brien. “I know I made mistakes, but I beg you to give me one more chance. There is one man I know — bright and hardworking — who would hopefully make up for all the others.”

“Very well,” the man snapped. “Who is he?”

O’Brien gestured towards the door, and a young man walked in. “Sir, this is Comrade Goldstein. I trust you’ll find him —”

“O’BRIEN!” 

"Sir?"

The man began pacing. "Do you realize what you've done? You just tried to hire EMMANUEL GOLDSTEIN, the Party's biggest enemy! You asked for a second chance... oh, you'll be getting a second chance, all right."

He stopped pacing and stood in front of O'Brien, looming over him, face contorted with rage.

"Room," he whispered.

"One." His voice was soft but full of menace.

"Oh." Rage was embedded in his every syllable.

"One."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did, the reality of them hit O'Brien all at once. He bolted, but it was too late; the guards standing behind the desk had seized him and began dragging him, none too gently, out the door.

"You can't do this to me!" he yelled. "I've done nothing wrong!"

"Boss's orders," barked the one on his left. "Now shut up or I'll punch you."

As they dragged him through the hallways, O'Brien struggling and protesting the whole way, another guard ran up to them.

"Got another message from the boss for you," he drawled. "Apparently, since Miniluv is already full - uh, thanks to you - you'll be staying with someone else for a bit. Oh, and you're not allowed to try to escape, or else you'll - uh, I think he just said 'or else'."

The guards nodded and continued to drag O'Brien through the halls, ignoring his yells. The closer they got to the doors, the more O'Brien struggled, but it was all in vain; the guards were three times his weight, and all of it was pure muscle. "Let me go!" he yelled for the fiftieth time, as they marched him closer and closer to his fate. "I'm your employer!"

"Not anymore," grunted the guard on his right. They opened the doors and threw O'Brien roughly onto the ground, slamming the doors behind them.

O'Brien slowly eased himself up into a sitting position, resenting everything that had happened to him that day. And now he didn't even have Smith to take his anger out on...

"Long time, no see, O'Brien." It was a familiar male voice, quiet and amused.

O'Brien looked up and saw, to his horror, Winston Smith. Sitting in the next cell over and smiling brightly at him.

A friendly, innocent, ever-so-slightly smug smile.

"You," O'Brien hissed.

"Me," replied Winston cheerfully, continuing to smile at O'Brien. "I must say, it's quite a surprise seeing you without the pain button for a change." He grinned. "Now I can make all the smart-aleck comments I want, and you can't do a single thing about it. Isn't that lovely?" He leaned back against the wall and placed his hands behind his head.

O'Brien buried his head in his arms. Of all the inmates they could have put him with, of course it had to be Smith.

Heavy footsteps echoed behind them. "Oh look, the guards are coming," Winston remarked brightly. "Yep, looks like they're coming for you, O'Brien. Just some advice: it hurts less if you curl up."

O'Brien was seized from behind and pulled roughly to his feet. He struggled, but was quickly met with a slap. "The boss said, no trying to escape!" a rough voice barked.

As the guards dragged him off, O'Brien's last sight was that of Winston Smith waving at him and yelling "Have fun, Comrade!" Then a boot came out of nowhere and buried itself in his abdomen, knocking the wind out of him...

 

"You there! Six oh seven nine! No sleeping until O'Brien says you can!"

Winston woke up with a jolt. Of course it had to have all been a dream. But still, it was nice to be the one annoying O'Brien for a change, regardless of whether it actually happened or not.

"Hello, Winston," said the real O'Brien, entering the room and sitting down in front of him. "We have lots to discuss today. First of all, let's talk about how much Big Brother - wait, why are you smiling at me like that?"

"Oh, nothing," said Winston, trying to conceal his smirk. "Go ahead and report me to your boss for it. I can only _dream_ what would happen there..."

**Author's Note:**

> now children, what Comrade Winston dreamed about is called 'karma', so don't do bad things


End file.
